


Insomnia

by Blaumeise



Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:55:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26045356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blaumeise/pseuds/Blaumeise
Summary: Izzy goes to extremes to make sure Axl falls asleep.
Relationships: Axl Rose/Izzy Stradlin
Comments: 9
Kudos: 34





	Insomnia

He's wide awake and at the same time almost asleep on his feet. Big fucking smudges under bloodshot eyes, tangled hair, erratic movements, yet he doesn't stop talking. 

"I've been to this exhibition, it was great. You should have come, Izzy. You would have liked it."

"Renaissance paintings? Really, Axl, not my thing."

"You need to broaden your horizon, man, you can't keep your head in a box for the rest of your life."

"Why can't I?" I lighten a cigarette. There's no sense in talking to Axl when he's like this. Three days without sleep. He's likely to crash anytime now and with our luck it will be twenty minutes before the show. 

I thought he would fall asleep after the gig last night, had hoped a little nudge into the right direction would be enough, but instead he went to a bar and partied. Took half a dozen groupies to his room to fuck them in turns and when morning came, he was back out doing the tourist-thing. Axl loves sightseeing. 

"So, are you going to have lunch with me or what? I heard Duff's off with Slash and left you behind?"

"Yeah." It's not true. They've asked me to come, but then I saw Axl return from his exhibition-thing and knew I had to do something about it. It isn't even noon, so if I manage to put him to sleep now, there is still a chance he will be halfway fit tonight. I don't want to miss another show. 

"It's OK, we can have lunch. Up in my room, I don't feel like going out." 

"Your room?" Axl wrinkles his nose. "That's boring."

Yes, Axl, boring is the whole point behind this undertaking. So boring that you will fall asleep on the couch or on the bed or on the fucking floor for all I care. 

"Oh, OK, your room. Maybe we can go out later. I heard there is a bar only a mile from here where the chicks have the biggest tits you've ever seen."

I smile and nod, having no intention to go anywhere or even let him go on his own. He follows me to my room, but although his steps are slightly stumbling, he is still chatting about Italian paintings. He has no idea how exhausted he really is. 

We order room service, but Axl doesn't eat much. He's restless, jumps up every few minutes, looks out of the window, switches the TV on and surfs through the channels. 

"You done eating?" he asks as soon as I make a pause. "Can we go now?"

"In a minute." I lighten another cigarette and reach for my guitar. Have I really stepped down to that level? Playing lullabies for my lead singer? Doesn't matter. I know what Axl likes, so I give it to him. No hard, aggressive riffs, but the softer melodies. He can drive me nuts with all his ballads sometimes, but today I'm willing to indulge him.

"Do you have to play now?" he asks. 

I don't answer. It's kinda difficult to play guitar, have a cigarette between my lips and talk all at the same time. 

"Izzy?" He sits down on the couch next to me. That's an improvement I suppose and so I keep improvising a bit more on the melody I am playing. 

"That's awesome." Axl's chin comes down on my shoulder. It leaves me a bit startled, though not too much. 

He's shifting around, but makes no move to stand up. His hair tickles my skin and I feel his breath against my cheek. 

"I want to fuck you."

I hardly hear the squealing sound of the snapping string.

"What was that?" I still hold the guitar, but I try to look at Axl, whose chin is resting on my shoulder. 

"I want to fuck you. You're the hottest guy on earth and when you play guitar it makes me all horny."

"Dude, did you take anything?" I try to get a look at his eyes, but we're too close. All I see is parts of his face blurring into each other. 

I put the guitar aside and turn around. I take Axl's face into my hands and stare at him. He doesn't seem high. Just totally exhausted. 

"I want to strip you naked, throw you onto the bed and fuck you senseless."

I shake my head and release him. I'm less surprised about what he is saying than that he actually does say it. I know he's watching me, on stage, under the shower, whenever he thinks I don't notice. He's done it since fucking high school. I have never called him out on it. It's as good a hobby as any, I suppose. But I'd never thought he'd one day act on it, raging homophobe that he is. I can only suspect what it does to him that of all the horrible things that could happen to him, he's got to get the hots for me. 

"Yeah I know." He sits up and tries to hide the slump in his shoulders with defiance. "I know you won't let me do it. You wouldn't let me do it if we were the last two persons on earth."

"Axl…"

"And I suppose, if I offered you to be on top, you'd refuse nevertheless, wouldn’t you?"

He looks at me. There's a small frown between his eyes and his mouth is pulled into a thin line. Only Axl manages to look at the same time belligerent and dejected. 

"Tell me, Izzy, do you think I'm hot?"

"Do I think…"

"Yeah, do you think I'm hot? Do you like my ass? I’m offering you my ass. You can fuck me and I won't say a word. I won't try anything, just lay down on the bed or bend over the table. Depends on what you want. It's a one-time offer and I doubt anybody else will ever get it. I know you have no intention to accept it, so do me at least the favour and answer my question: Do you think I'm hot?"

I stand up and walk over to the window. I need a little bit of distance between us, but Axl follows me. 

"Answer me."

I look at him, really look at him. He's not that much smaller than me. He's not fragile or delicate, so why does he manage to look like he would snap under a firm grip? In fact, his body is as sculptured as one of the ancient statues in those museums he likes to visit. Pale, perfect skin over sleek muscles. There's not an ounce of fat, nowhere. He wouldn't allow it. Axl controls everything and he wouldn't stop at his body. 

I like his face. It's definitely attractive, yes, but for me its beauty lies in the emotions that are always there. His eyes are vivid like nobody else's. They sparkle, they blaze, they hold more sadness than one person should know. His expression is never dull, never stupid or mindless. Whether he's angry, sad or desperate, his face gives him away. At least if you know what to look for. Pale eyes under pale lashes, thin red hair over white shoulders. Yes, I like what I see. Always will. And still…

"Axl…" I don't want to go this way. Not because I'm totally against shagging him, but because there is no sense in doing it. I know how Axl treats his chicks, I'm definitely not going that way. For me, sex is about pleasure, having fun or even just to wind down after a long day. For Axl, sex is a battle he needs to win. And sometimes he needs to lose. 

He shakes his head and I see the disappointment. 

"I thought you were better than that," he says and crosses his arms in front of his chest. He raises his chin and cocks his head and I know he is about to become nasty. "I thought you would have the guts to tell me what you think. I thought you weren't like them, licking my boots, kissing my ass. Oh yeah, do you think I don't know why they're doing it? I'm not stupid, Izzy. I know they don't like me. I know all they want is money, influence and keeping their hands in the business. And I'm the key to their success. They can't afford to piss me off, so I can make them jump. I thought you were different. I thought you'd say what you think. But you don't even have the guts to tell me that you don't want me. What're you afraid of? That I'd kick you out of the band? Afraid to bite the hand that feeds?"

I know I shouldn't react to it. This is just Axl being Axl, worse, this is Axl being Axl after three days without sleep. I try to remind myself that he's only lashing out because he's hurting, that hurting others is his way to deal with his pain. I try to deal with it, but, fuck, I'm no saint and Axl standing in front of me, tapping his foot and pressing my buttons one after the other with loving precision is just a bit too much.

I make a step forward and seize his shoulders. He doesn't flinch. I have to give it to Axl, he is no coward. He deals out big way, but he can also take. At least physically. Emotionally he's a silk-scarf in a hurricane. I grab his chin and force it up. I turn his head from left to right, giving him the once over.

"I've seen prettier," I say before I let go. I pull his T-shirt over his head and check out his body. It is as beautiful as I remember. "You're a bit on the skinny side for my taste," I say and rudely feel him up. I let my hands travel down his ribs and grab him around his waist. He tenses and I shake him until he relaxes enough for me to handle him like a doll. 

"You asked whether I liked your ass, didn't you?" I reach around. His right buttock fits perfectly into my left hand and I give it a squeeze. It doesn't give much. It's not like a girl's ass, it's a bundle of muscles. 

"Yeah, I like your ass. No question here. It's perfect. I'd say it's definitely your best part."

I release him.

"Does this answer your question?" 

"Kind of." His breath is coming slightly faster, but not much. He still stares at me, but the anger is gone. He's got what he wanted. Another rejection. 

I wait for him to leave, but he doesn't. He just stands there and I wonder what he's waiting for. 

My own anger fades and I touch his cheek. His skin is soft and girlish, but when I get down to his jaw-line I feel stubbles scrap my fingers. He's not a chick. It's easy to forget. 

I shouldn't be doing this. Indulging him is wrong to the chore, he's spoiled enough. But it's really hard to not give Axl what he wants. Especially when he's like this. Axl is like crack, he's worth the pain and hazard of an addiction. 

I lift his chin and kiss him. His mouth opens and I feel the flicker of his tongue. 

"You'll let me have your ass?" I growl against his lips. 

"Yes."

"None of your little games? You're not going to pull some shit on me?"

"No." It's merely a gasp. 

"You'll just lie down and let me have you?"

"Yes."

"Anyway I want?"

A nod.

I turn him around and lead him over to the bed. He follows, still tense. I tell him to strip off the rest of his clothes and he obeys. I look at him, then shake my head. Three days.

"Go, have a shower and shave yourself. I'm not keen on getting whisker-burns or lice and fleas just because you can't be bothered to wash."

He looks offended, but I simply pick up the guitar. I ignore him and after a minute he heads for the bathroom. He emerges not much later, naked and clean. His hair looks darker when it's wet, almost like copper. 

I jerk my chin into the direction of the bed and he sits down. I let him wait while I finish playing, but it only takes a minute or two before I join him. I run my hand over his cheeks and nod my approval. He doesn't have much of a beard anyway, but he's under the stupid impression that a few days' growth of stubbles would make him look male. As if anybody wants him to look male. 

"Much better. Now lie down."

I push him back and straddle him. His hands touch my thighs and I let him. It's a harmless pleasure, so why should I deny him. Wet hair clings to his forehead and I push it back. I like to see all of his face. 

His expression is still defiant, although he's getting what he wants. Axl can't just accept a gift and be happy with it. He always acts as if it was forced on him. 

I kiss him again, roughly this time. I bite at his lower lip and he arches into me while I taste blood. His face is small in my hands, sharp and mouse-like. 

"Roll over!" 

He obeys. His back-muscles move under his skin. He tries to prop himself up, but I just take his arms out from under him and lay him down flat. I put a hand onto his ass. It feels even better than it did through the jeans. Smooth, round, hard. Definitely fuckable. He shivers. 

I have no lube, I didn't expect to render this kind of service tonight, so I just lick my finger and push in. 

Axl yelps and I hesitate for a second. Has he ever done this before? I have no idea. Probably not. But, honestly, it doesn't matter. 

He's lying still again, not trembling anymore. He's tough, I give him that. 

I'm not happy with the arrangement, so I grab a handful of hair and yank him off the bed. He gasps, but follows. What else could he do? I stand in the middle of the room, not sure where to go. Axl is next to me, almost on his knees, his head still down where I'm holding him. He doesn't protest, just squirms a bit. 

The armchair. I toss him across the back. His knees buckle and he's hanging there, ass up in the air, but that doesn't look right either. Who'd have thought it would be so difficult to find the right place to fuck Axl? There aren't many other options, not in this room. I could drag him out though. I wonder if he would follow along. He'd put up a fight, but it's not entirely off limit that in the end he would submit. 

I'm not cruel enough to do that to him, so I just reach for his hair again and pull him back up. This time he doesn't even make a sound. I drag him across the room to the desk and swipe all the hotel brochures, letters, stationeries and complementary stuff on the floor. I push him down face forward and kick his legs apart. 

That's it. 

Again, he tries to get his arms under himself and I'm slowly losing my patience. 

"You keep them like this!" I growl, pull his arms out again and put them down above his head. "There, understood? Don't tell me you're too stupid for that."

No, Axl isn't stupid. You can call him a lot of different kinds of names, and you’d be absolutely right. But stupid isn’t one of them. People sometimes make that mistake, think he's just some naive little boy from Indiana they can control. They've all learned to regret it. Nobody controls Axl. 

He lies still again. I get rid of my pants, spit into my hands and lube myself up as good as possible, which is hardly as good as I should. 

Axl doesn't scream. He doesn't groan either. It's a suppressed, tortured sound down in his throat, which never reaches his tongue. He swallows it and when I thrust again, he stays silent. He's tight. Tight and tense. I go slowly, once, twice, then I stop. I run a hand along his spine, feel the vertebrae ripple against my fingers. He breathes heavily. His forehead is pressed against the table, so I take his head and turn it aside. I brush his hair back over his shoulder and now I can see his face. His eyes are closed, his lips parted and his gasps are almost inaudible. His vulnerability almost makes me falter. Almost. I recall all those things he's said to me, all the insults, the accusations, all the times I had to endure his irresponsibility, his rages, his insecurity. I pull back and slam down hard. I watch his face contort, but again, there is no sound. Nothing. 

I cover his face with his hair and fuck him. I don't care whether he hurts, I don't care whether he comes or not, I just keep pounding and pounding until I come from sheer exhaustion. 

Axl doesn't move. I lift him up and he sways. I take his t-shirt and wipe the come from his ass and belly. He doesn't look at me. I steer him over to the bed and he crawls under the covers all on his own. I take off the rest of my clothes and join him. He curls up next to me, almost touching, but not quite. It doesn't take more than a few minutes until he dozes off. 

I watch him and the small stab of guilt vanishes. He still looks exhausted, even in his sleep, but that's not all there is. He looks content, almost at peace. Maybe all Axl needs is somebody who kicks his spoiled, little rock star ass every once in a while. But whatever he thinks, it won't be me. Because the only thing I will ever be is the guitarist.

-The End-


End file.
